


Uprising

by tangofox



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Homophobia, M/M, Modern AU, Transphobia, Underage Sex Mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets based around Jehan's life as a teenager, and how he grew to be the man he is today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uprising

Jehan didn't want to cry. He wanted to remain stone faced and pack with dignity. However it was a little hard to have control over your emotions when your parents were making you homeless because of who you were. Jehan couldn't help his sexuality, nor could he help his gender. But it was too much for his parents, the Mayor and his wife, who wanted a perfect well bred son, and not, as they put it; “an abomination”. Part of him wishes that kiss never happened, wishes that Grantaire had never come over. Luckily he had enough sense to leave when Jehan told him to, even though he wanted to stand by his side. He was a good friend and Jehan didn't know what he would do without him in his life. He held his hand and watched movies with him when he was low, shopped for clothes in the towns only thrift store with him, slept over when things were too rough. And they stood up for each other, had each others backs. But right now Jehan was alone, and had never felt more alone in his entire life. The clothes in his suitcases, he remembers his mothers disgust the first time she found some of them in the maids pile, women’s clothes that he had bought, that his mother had screamed and screamed at him for owning and daring to wear. He was in a dress now as he shoved the clothes into the suitcase, and it made him feel ugly, and he hated her for that. She wasn't allowed to have this, they weren’t allowed to take him away from himself. That’s why when they said change, or get out, he screamed and cried and packed a case. He wouldn’t pretend to be straight, or cisgender, he just couldn't do it anymore. 

He drags the case downstairs, making sure to loudly bang the stairs as he drags it down each one, struggling with the weight of it. He could hear his mother in the living room crying, and he could see the shadow of his father near the fireplace. In the other direction he could see the maid fussing over the dinner table, no doubt for another pointless dinner party thrown by the darling mayor.

“I'm leaving then!” He yells, wincing at the sound of footsteps and looking to see his Father approaching. He winces, he hadn't expected an audience before his departure. He had wiped away his tears now, he was being as brave as his body would let him.

“Before you upset your Mother more then,” The man says with a nod, not a hint of compassion in his face as he looks towards the door, not meeting Jehan's gaze.

To the door, he made it to the door. He makes it half way down the street before he collapses on his case, until he is wracked with sobs enough that he can't bring himself to walk anymore.

~~~~~~~~

“Freak!”

“Loser!”

Jehan stamps his feet harder, ducking from one of the little stones pelted at him, one of them scraping across his cheek and frustrating him further. However when he moves to stand and throw one of the stones back there is a big figure looming in front of him, and Jehan is left staring at someone’s back. 

“Get out of here, or else,” The strangers yells, and Jehan has to peek over his shoulder to watch the three boys run away laughing. Now Jehan is annoyed. He likes to think he can look after himself, but the boys had caught him off guard and he was surprised for such an attack to happen on the first day of school. 

“I can look after myself idiot,” Jehan huffs as the stranger turns around, glaring at him with all his might.

“Your cheek is bleeding,” The boy points out, taking a tissue out of his pocket and dabbing at the little cut. That seems to make Jehan calm down a little, resting a little bit, his breathing not so laboured now the boys have cleared off. He really didn't see anything wrong with sitting at the bottom of the field with his journal, he didn't want to play with the other kids, and that didn't make him a freak, or a loser.

“My name is Jean,” He offers, looking up at Grantaire with those permanently watery blue eyes. 

“Mines Grantaire,” He says with a grin, brushing a hand through the messy black curls. “And don't worry, if they come back, we can kick their asses together.”

~~~~~~

“Grantaire fuck open up!” He yells, banging on the door. He knows Grantaire's mother isn't home, and he's tired and hungry and just wants to be with his friend. It was a bit of a long walk between the boys houses in the village, and dragging a big suitcase behind him, and not having eaten a thing all day, Jehan was feeling exhausted.

A few seconds later the door opens and Jehan is flinging himself into Grantaire's arms, and there he stays for the next few hours. The suitcase is dragged in, blankets are put all over the top of Grantaire's bed, and there the friends just lie together, Jehan crying in his purple dress and tights, and Grantaire just comforting him, stroking his back and promising him it will be okay, giving Jehan the quiet and comfort that he desperately needed.

Jehan knew they couldn't stay here. Jehan couldn't just live on Grantaire's floor and he was sure he was going to suggest that, and it certainly wasn't fair on Grantaire's Father, and Grantaire had way enough pressure in his life already. 

“What are we going to do Grantaire,” Jehan whispers in a tone mixed with worry and horror, moving to sit up so he can look at him, hugging his knees to his chest. 

Grantaire is silent for a long time, and Jehan gets incredibly anxious before he manages to utter a word.  
“Do you still have your emergency credit card, from when we went to buy those shoes?” Grantaire asks him. Jehan nods. “Fuck it Jehan...how much is on that? Hundred thousand? More? Lets bolt and move somewhere, fuck lets move to Paris, lets start as new people, lets find a way to be happy.”

For the first time since the early afternoon, there's a smile forming on Jehan's face. It's a ridiculous idea. Not practical at all, not planned, not thought out. They were just kids with no plan, with no real place to feel home, nowhere to fit in. And despite the absolute ludicrous sounding words, somehow, it just sounded right. Paris. City of Light. City of Love. And oh, oh did Jehan love to love. 

“Lets,” He says with a broad grin and a nod. “Lets run away to Paris.” 

~~~~

“Just once,” Grantaire says with a grin and a nod, pulling a god awful kissy face at Jehan which made him snort. At fifteen he had already lost his virginity to one of the boys in the church choir but there was no kissing involved, and Jehan was expressing his despair to Grantaire, when his best friend volunteered. 

 

“Grantaire don't be gross you are my best friend,” He says with a wrinkled up nose, though he does appreciate the sentiment behind it.

“Oh please I've seen you checking out my hot body, I know you want a piece of it,” Grantaire laughs at him, and Jehan ends up blushing scarlet, because he certainly had looked at everybody that way. It was a small town and there weren't many boys, and the cute ones certainly were making Jehan think all sorts of things.

 

“Promise you won't fall in love with me and like...want to marry me or anything?” Jehan asks with genuine worry, considering it seriously. He wanted his first kiss already, and he knew how weird it was that he had lost his virginity before he had his first kiss. 

“Hand on my heart,” Grantaire says, matching his words with the gesture. “I will never fall in love with you Jean Prouvaire, and I will never want to marry you.”

Jehan seems satisfied with that, biting his already bite-swollen bottom lip and leaning forwards, clumsily crashing his lips against Grantaire's, almost pushing him backwards with the force. Luckily Grantaire is there to gently take control, and Jehan's creases melt off his forehead as Grantaire presses a hand to his lower back and slowly kisses him back, lips slightly parted, upturned in a smile when Jehan's breath hitches, pulling back before it goes any further.

“Wow,” Jehan murmurs with a big grin plastered on his face, his whole world totally euphoric, unaware of his Father standing in the doorway, about to bring his whole life crashing down.

~~~

The apartment was filthy. The neighbourhood was filthy. But Jehan was happy. And he was sure Grantaire was happy too. Both being only fifteen nobody in their right mind would give them an apartment, so it turned out their dreams of a fancy apartment looking at the Eiffel Tower were just that. Dreams. They were living in the slums, in the dirt, and somehow, it was glorious. Because Jehan could be whatever gender or sexuality he chose. And it was Grantaire's choice what he studied, how hard he studied. In this little slum of Paris they were free of constraint and hate, and could learn to be truly happy.

So much was laid ahead of them! Anything could happen! They would go to the little eastern European shop on the corner which sold amazing bread and never asked for ID, and eat like paupers and drink like swines, because there was nobody to stop them. Jehan would lie his head in Grantaire's lap and they would talk about becoming famous artists, talk about how Grantaire would illustrate Jehan's anthologies, and Jehan would write epic odes to Grantaire's masterpieces. The world was their oyster, nothing bad could happen. Nothing would go wrong for them anymore. Life was a dream.


End file.
